


A Tender Touch

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pre-FBI Stiles, Short One Shot, Tattoo Artist Derek, Tattoo Artist Derek Hale, Tattooed Stiles, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Tattooed!Stiles Stilinski, Tattoos, tattoo artist!Derek Hale, tattoo artist!derek, tattooed!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 18:23:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles is terrified of getting a tattoo, but he needs this. Luckily for him, the new tattoo artist at the local tattoo shop is rather gentle and reassuring. But what's more, there's something about him--his hands, his touch--that just sets Stiles at ease.





	A Tender Touch

Stiles stood out the front of the tattoo parlour, staring at the neon OPEN sign.

He let out a heavy breath and reminded himself he had to do this; the FBI wouldn't let him carry around his father's old sheriff's badge and he couldn't part with it. He needed this.

He tightened his fist around the old badge and pushed open the door. 

A small bell chimed and a man stepped around the corner.

"Can I help you?" the man asked.

"I'm Stiles, I have an appointment for two o'clock," he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

The man nodded and stepped over to the small counter, his sharp eyes rolling over the page of a appointment book that sat atop a pile of books; portfolios, each labeled with the artist's name.

"You're in with Derek," the man announced. "He does fine line-art and realism better than the rest of us. He should just be finishing his lunch break, follow me."

The man nodded towards the small fleet of stairs beside the desk that led up to a large open space, separated into work stations by dividers. He guided stiles over to one by the window that overlooked the park on the opposite street.

"Derek," he called. "Your two o'clock is here."

There was a mumbled reply and the man nodded towards the work station. 

"Thank you," Stiles said as the man turned and left.

He stepped into the booth, looking at his tattoo artist. 

He was a young man, a few years older than Stiles, with thick black hair and bright aveturine eyes that lit up brilliantly when he smiled and said, "Hi, I'm Derek."

"I'm Stiles," the teen stammered in response.

"Why don't you take a seat and we'll get started?"

Stiles sat down on the bench Derek gestured to.

"Why don't we start with you telling me a bit about this tattoo?" Derek prompted. "You know, where do you want it? How big do you want it? Are there any minor details that you'd like added or things you'd like covered up?"

"Well, uh, it's my dad's badge--his old one," Stiles started, pulling the badge out of his pocket to show Derek the real thing. "I have to head to Washington for training and with all the security checks, I wanted a way to carry it with me always. I was thinking of putting it on my chest, over my heart. As for size, the size of the original thing is preferable. I'd like to keep the bullet hole in it, but maybe move it up a little more so that the badge number is readable?"

"Sure," Derek replied. He turned on his stool and quickly made a few alterations to the sketch. After a minute, he showed it to Stiles. "Like this?"

"Perfect," Stiles replied, unable to hide his smile.

"Okay, give me a minute to trace the stencil and we can get to it," Derek said, smiling reassuringly. "While I do this, why don't you take off your shirt?"

Stiles did as he was told, watching as Derek went to work. 

After a minute, he pushed away from his desk, his stool rolling across the space as he brought the stencil over to Stiles.

"How are you with needles?" Derek asked as he cleaned Stiles' chest and positioned the stencil. 

"Honestly? Horrible," Stiles confessed. "But this is something I want; something I need."

"I promise I'll be extra gentle with you," Derek said with a soft smile. He pressed the stencil to Stiles' skin and pulled it back, leaving the outline from which he was going to work. "How's that?"

Stiles looked up at the mirror above Derek's desk. "Yeah, that's perfect."

"Alright, if you lie down on the bench we can get this started. I'll just tell you now that a lot of people over exaggerate the needle thing; some people don't feel any pain at all. I've got several tattoos and none of them hurt more than pushing a pen against your skin, but my sister is another story. And, honestly, the sound is the most unsettling part. But if you can ignore that, you'll be fine."

Stiles nodded as he laid back in the bench.

There was something about this man--something about his glittering eyes and his sweet smile--that just made Stiles feel calm.

Derek got the inks sorted and started up the machine.

Stiles tensed for a moment, exhaling heavily and relaxing. He shut his eyes and felt something press against his skin, then nothing.

"How was that?" Derek asked.

"Was that it?" Stiles replied, stunned. "That didn't hurt at all."

Derek chuckled. "Good."

He set to work and Stiles relaxed, his eyes slowly drifting shut as he felt Derek's fingers brush across his skin.

Time passed quickly as Stiles drifted into a peaceful oblivion, still somehow remaining completely aware of Derek's tender touch, of the warmth of his hands and of his glittering eyes that were focused solely on his work.

"You still with me?" Derek asked, his husky voice full of concern.

"Yeah," Stiles replied. "Never thought I'd be this calm."

"Tell me about this tattoo," Derek prompted. "Why are you getting your dad's sheriff's badge?"

"Because my dad is my idol and my hero. I've always looked up to him, ever since I was a little kid. About three years ago, he took a bullet to the chest and the badge took enough of the force that he walked away from it, but I keep the badge as a reminder of him, of how I should treasure every moment with him because there might not be another one. He's my hero."

Derek hummed, prompting Stiles to continue.

"Like I said earlier; I'm heading to Washington for training and with all the security checks and metal detectors I'll have to go through on a daily basis, carrying around my dad's old sheriff badge might become difficult."

"I can see what you mean," Derek said. "What sort of training?" 

"FBI," Stiles answered.

Derek's brow shot up. "Wow. Got your heart set on a division?"

"Homicide," Stiles replied. "Or the Behavioural Analyst Unit."

"Nice," Derek said, sounding rather impressed. He sat back, reaching for a paper towel and a bottle of fluid. He cleaned away the excess ink and said, "All done. You can take a look and then we'll get it wrapped up."

Stiles sat up and stepped over to the mirror above Derek's desk, admiring the tattoo on his chest. 

It was perfect, the brass dulled with age but gleaming as it caught the light, the engraved numbers of his fathers badge darkened enough to be visible but so much that they seemed fake, and the shadows dwelling in the groves of the writing and in the rippling metal of the bullet hole.

"It's perfect," Stiles said breathlessly. He turned to look at Derek, fighting the tears in his eyes as he rasped, "Thank you."

Derek cleaned up the rest of the tattoo, spread gel over it and wrapped it up, giving Stiles instructions on how to care for his tattoo before taking him back downstairs where Stiles paid.

"I mean it, Derek," Stiles said as he was about to leave. "Thank you. I don't know if I'd have ever been able to do this if I didn't have you as my artist.

Derek bowed his head to hide his blush. After a second, he looked back up at Stiles and smiled. "I'm actually heading up to Washington next week; my placement here is up. I might see you around."

Stiles' heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah," he said, smiling back. "I'd like that."

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


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